Bones
by riddleberry
Summary: Throughout his travels, the Doctor has developed a sense of familiarity with the nature of human history, but there are evils beyond his wildest fantasies lurking in the recesses of mankind. Across the fabric of time, newborn children are being ripped from their mothers' arms and vanishing into the night. The human race is fighting an invisible war, and Clara Oswald has a secret.
1. Chapter 1

He awoke in the night with a growling stomach and dragged himself out of bed to go search the kitchen for a remedy. She was there, crouched over the dimly lit dining table and staring intently at something he couldn't see. She didn't seem to notice his entrance, so he assumed she was reading as usual. Clara adored books. She had loads of time to read them since she rarely was able to sleep a wink. "Nightmares," she would respond curtly whenever he questioned her chronic exhaustion.

Grinning mischievously, the Doctor tip-toed toward her chair and lashed out playfully to tickle her waist. Clara gasped with shock, gave his groping hands several frantic slaps, and whirled around in her chair to deliver her best "There is no way in Hell you are receiving any sex for a week" glare. The Doctor chuckled at her fury and removed his hands from her waist, instead moving to place them on her cheeks and bending to peck her swiftly on the lips.

"All in good fun, Clara," he assured her as her scowl softened into a smirk.

"You ought not to sneak up on me like that, you know. I'm quite agile. You could have lost a few teeth back there."

"I'll be a bit more careful next time. What's that you're reading?"

Clara shifted nervously, blocking the path between the book on the table and the Doctor, who was leaning every which way in an attempt to snag a few peeks at the contents of the open page. Muttering a terse "Nothing," she stole the book from the tabletop in a single swoop, clutched it to her chest, and pushed past her somewhat bewildered companion. She marched out of the kitchen before he could even bid her a good night, the sound of her footsteps on the metallic corridor floors fading within a few seconds.

The Doctor hesitated at the table for a moment, deliberating whether or not he should be concerned about Clara's reaction to his inquiry, but he quickly determined that stranger things had happened in his company. Her sudden egress had likely been a product of sleep deprivation and lingering hysteria as a result of his tickle attack. She was probably reading one of her more romantic books that she didn't like for him to see on account of the graphic lovemaking scenes they often contained. Personally, he thought her affinity for such things was quite adorable and sexy, but she was embarrassed by it. She hated for people to assume things about her based on her novel selection.

Shrugging, he headed for the walk-in pantry and began scouring the peach-colored shelves for something he could eat without having to spend an hour grueling over a stove. He settled on a handful of assorted breakfast bars he'd nicked from a refueling station in the X-23 asteroid belt. It was nearly morning, so he decided those would tide him over until lunchtime, whenever and wherever that may be.

Incidentally, lunchtime ended up being in the year 3180 at a quaint, only slightly radioactive cafe in Vancouver. Clara had once expressed a keen interest in Canada, so the Doctor whisked her off to the 32nd century to see the nation at its Platinum Age.

"Platinum Age? Was 'Golden Age' already taken?" She asked through a mouthful of some unidentifiable sandwich-like meal which tasted faintly of metal and whiskey.

"Actually, yes, but that's beside the point. This is Canada's most technologically advanced period! They've harnessed an ultra-dense subatomic chemical from large, previously untapped sources of platinum and launched the most extraordinary industrial revolution this Earth has ever seen. Clothing, cars, houses, food... It's all mass produced from these brilliant platinum factories that stretch for miles!"

Clara grimaced and set her meal down slowly.

"Unemployment is at an impeccable zero percent! Canadian quality of life is off the charts! Manned rockets crafted entirely from this platinum ore are being launched from the coast as we speak, destined to traverse the stars and ultimately lead the human race to assemble its first successful colonies on asteroids! Amazing, Canada! Truly amazing!" The Doctor gushed in between bites of his own food, which he appeared to be completely unphased by.

They roamed the streets of the city for hours, marveling at the towering architecture and the glistening metallic streets. Clara gazed with wide, brown eyes as the Doctor pointed her in the direction of a public wi-fi station larger than her home, a flea market which actually sold various assortments of mechanical fleas, and more sleek hovercrafts than she could possibly count. He introduced her to a 32nd century police officer who complimented her "vintage" clothing style and invited her for a ride on his levitating motorbike.

"Not today, officer! She's already got one of those!" The Doctor declared with a wink before skirting Clara off to less flirtatious company.

By the time evening came along, the pair had settled down in a colorful ice cream parlor and treated themselves to silvery sundaes. It was wildly hot outside, much to Clara's confusion. She'd always imagined Canada as a chilly place. The Doctor explained that the combination of an immense global temperature rise and a trend of coating entire cities with reflective metal led to a grave climate change which would wipe the whole of North America right off the map in less than a thousand years.

"Seriously? So, this country's Platinum Age is actually its last age altogether? We're basically sitting in a graveyard, eating sweets?" She inquired solemnly, shoving her ice cream to the side in disgust.

"No, no, no, no, no! Not at all! The land will be destroyed, yes, but these people... Oh, how they live! You see, Clara, they leave this Earth behind and colonize a new one, carrying the triumphs of this era of history on their backs as they branch out among the stars! They live gloriously! This isn't a graveyard, Clara. It's a museum! Perhaps the most important museum in human history!"

Beaming, Clara glanced around at the other people in the shop, her heart swelling with pride. In all of her two years traveling in the TARDIS, she'd never ceased to be amazed by her own race and its ability to continue to thrive despite all the odds. With the Doctor, she'd witnessed mass extinctions and violent planetary collapses. She'd watched stars burn out and leave millions of species helpless in absolute darkness. She'd even seen a solar system populated with what the Doctor described as "the most intelligent beings in the universe" be swallowed within a matter of seconds by a menacing black hole.

But she'd never seen the human race so much as falter in its steps.

"So, is this even edible? I mean, it's metal, isn't it?" She changed the subject suddenly, gesturing toward her rapidly melting sundae.

With his own spoon dangling out of the corner of his mouth, the Doctor yanked his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket and scanned Clara's dish with it.

"Seems alright! Not too many free radicals! Zero radiation! Tastes brilliant!"

Clara shrugged and returned to eating the frozen, glittering sludge. He was right; it did taste rather brilliant.

As the time traveler and his dazed companion enjoyed their sugary suppers in silence, a sinister mass of dark figures moved swiftly in the shadows dozens of miles away in a dreary suburb. Black as night, they scaled the streets unnoticed, uttering no words and leaving no footprints. They glided past open windows which framed cheerful, unsuspecting families going about their dinner plans. Occasionally, they stopped abruptly in front of a house and froze for a while before turning away, as if they weren't satisfied with what they saw.

At one point, the clan swerved into a narrow driveway and huddled on the patio in a tight semi-circle around the front door. There was no light emitting from the house, and the curtains were all drawn. Passerby might have mistaken it for a vacant property. But it wasn't nearly empty, and the mysterious hoard of shadows discreetly breaking into the foyer seemed to be well aware of that.

If the neighbors had been listening to the sounds of the night, they might have heard a shrill scream and the piercing sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces. They might have seen the shadows emerge from the stilled house, clutching a whimpering, struggling little bundle in a thin blanket. They might have felt a minor quake as the figures disappeared into the blackness in a flash. And, if they had listened intently enough, they might have heard the sickening cries of a young mother, frozen, bloody, naked, and trembling with the shock of being forcefully torn from her newborn child.

But suburbia slept soundly that night, blissfully unaware of the evils that had slyly penetrated its sanctity only hours before.

**Author's note: Hello, folks! I have several chapters of this already written, and I'm quite proud of it so far! I hope it turns out to be as exciting to read as it has been to write. I have really huge plans for this WIP, and I intend to update it once a week. I'm hoping you'll enjoy and follow this! Thanks, and please, feel free to review and let me know what you think about it thus far! xx**


	2. Chapter 2

"Where to next, eh? I know a good planetary system for ice fishing! Lovely little creatures, ice fish... Although they pack quite the bite! If you're in a warmer mood, we could pop on over to an old galaxy I used to run off to sometimes and see the largest yet friendliest volcano in the universe! I hear it's very uplifting!" The Doctor rambled excitedly, jogging around the center console and adjusting several knobs and levers as he went.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could play the 'tour guide' today. You've shown me all this amazing stuff, but I've seen a thing or two myself. There's a place I'd like to take you, if you'd let me." Clara requested softly, causing her companion to stop dead in his tracks and whirl around to face her.

She'd been toying with the idea of playing host to an adventure herself for several months, but she couldn't work up the nerve to say anything. It was odd for Clara to be anxious. The feeling was unfamiliar and terrifying, and it sent shivers shooting up and down her spine like darts. She and the Doctor had been physically intimate with each other for over a year, but the pair was still extremely evasive when it came down to the nitty-gritty personal details. Revealing even a small fraction of her world to him made her uneasy, as if he would suddenly realize how extraordinarily average she was and come to resent her.

Fortunately, all of her fears dissipated instantly when the Doctor's features split into an elated grin. He lurched forward and clutched Clara's thin palms in his own, leading her over to the dusty console scanner and pointing her in the direction of a keyboard.

"Well, tell her where you want to go. I won't look." He whispered with delight before shielding his eyes with his hands like a small child awaiting a Christmas surprise.

Clara giggled and swiftly entered the geographical and temporal coordinates of her destination. With a hoarse "Geronimo," she yanked the lever she'd watched the Doctor use millions of times and clutched the console railing tightly with both hands as the TARDIS began to dematerialize. After several minutes of spiraling chaotically through the time vortex, the ship steadied itself on solid ground, eliciting a sigh of relief from Clara, who was persistently paranoid about crash landings.

"So, Clara Oswald, where and when are we?"

A glittering smile plastered across her face, Clara darted to the TARDIS doors and pulled them open, flooding the console room with pale golden sunlight.

"Doctor, I'd like to welcome you to Blackpool Beach!"

She clasped the Doctor's hand in her own and led him out onto the crowded beach, which was experiencing one of its extraordinarily sunny days that drew thousands of eager visitors onto the sprawling sands. Childhood memories flooded Clara's mind as she guided a grinning Doctor along the crashing shores. The place hadn't changed at all since she'd last gone. It was as if every grain of sand had been patiently awaiting her return.

"This was my most favorite place to go when I was growing up! Do you see that really packed stretch of beach over there? That's where I got lost once! My mum found me by that lifeguard station with the purple stripe. Over there is the Blackpool Tower! It's massive, isn't it? I used to dream of climbing it! And look! Look over at that blue building! That's where my uncle ate so many chips that he was sick for hours! You know, I lived in Blackpool for a little over a year after my mum died. This beach is where I spent all my time. I rather liked watching people."

The Doctor listened graciously as Clara revealed the heart of her childhood to him. He rarely got to see the personal, emotional side of his companion, and his hearts swelled when she found herself stumbling over her own words with nostalgic joy. She showed him the secret coves she used to pretend were mystical realms containing lords and ladies and everything in between. She guided him down the damp streets and pointed out every store she'd ever patronized. She even took him to the tacky gift shop in which she'd experienced both her first kiss and her first break up. The relationship had lasted about ten minutes and collapsed when Clara accidentally kicked the young boy in the groin by the t-shirt rack.

After what felt like ages of wandering around the bustling promenade, the pair decided to rest on a wooden bench near the shore. Clara's feet ached, and the Doctor was deeply regretting his decision to dress in a thick suit at all times. He made a mental note to expand his wardrobe to better accommodate the well-heated places Clara had a tendency to gravitate toward.

"Do you think you could go grab us some chips? There's a stand over there." Clara asked, gesturing in the direction of a cluster of colorful tents in the distance.

"I haven't any money. Lost my wallet in Andromeda after a rough bet with a rather ferocious polar bear. Turns out I'm rubbish at skiing!"

Stifling mocking laughter, Clara reached into the depths of her messenger bag and rummaged intently for a few moments. Her hand emerged from the bag clutching a miniature plastic rose, which she held out for the Doctor with a sad smile.

"Give that to the cashier. His name is Aaron. He'll know exactly what it is, and he won't make you pay for the chips when he sees it."

A bit bewildered, the Doctor twirled the faded rose between his thumb and forefinger and made his way to the food stand. Clara settled back into the warmth of the sunlit bench and glanced around her shoulder before sliding a thick, burgundy journal from her bag, opening it to the first blank page, and beginning to scrawl in cherry red ink along its surface. Over by the bright vendor's tent, the Doctor found himself face to face with a lanky, blonde teenage boy who possessed the bluest eyes he had ever seen and a tattered name badge reading "Aaron Holloway."

"What'll you be havin', then?" Aaron barked impatiently after a few stale seconds of silence as the Doctor examined the lean figure who must have been a significant part of Clara's elusive past.

"Er, I'll have a large order of chips, please." He stammered before gingerly placing Clara's rose on the counter by the practically empty 'TIPS' jar.

Failing to notice the rose, the exasperated teen turned to the frying station and began scooping chips out with silver tongs, muttering lyrics to some pop song under his breath as he went. Once he had a basket filled to the brim with chips, he returned to face the Doctor at the counter.

"Here you g-"

His words caught like putty in his throat the moment he laid eyes on the tiny, blood-red flower. The chip basket fell from his limp grasp with a clatter as he snatched up the rose and held it in front of his face, his eyes glistening with a thin veil of moisture.

"H-how did you get this? Is she okay? Is Clara okay? Has somethin' happened to her? Have _you_ done somethin' to her? Have th-"

"She's fine! She's perfectly fine and healthy and alive! She's waiting over by the beach! She asked me to show that to you. What is it? Who are you to her?"

"I'm a friend. A really old friend. She came to lodge with me and my mum the year of Mrs. Oswald's passin'. We got her through some... stuff." Aaron explained hesitantly, never taking his eyes off of the rose. He seemed to be scanning it, as if it were drenched in secrets.

"And the flower?"

"It's nothin'," Aaron snapped suddenly, thrusting the offending object into the Doctor's clutches and turning away to wipe his greasy fingers on a cloth.

"Well, don't you want to see Clara? I'm sure she'd li-"

"No! No, she can't see me! She doesn't need to. It might remind her of... that year. And she doesn't deserve to relive any of that. She shouldn't have even come back here."

"What happened during that year, Aaron? Why would she come all the way to Blackpool to stay with your family?"

"Her mum died, you bleepin' moron! Now go back to her and tell her I wasn't here! Just go!"

Flustered, the Doctor briskly fled the food stand, gripping the rose in his sweaty palm. Aaron's daunting words echoed throughout the recesses of his mind as he made his way back to Clara.

_She shouldn't have even come back here._

It had been Clara's own decision to return to Blackpool Beach, and, as far as the Doctor could tell, her demeanor had been celebratory and relaxed without a single trace of the menace of unhealed wounds. In his travels with Clara, he'd consistently resigned himself to the idea that he would never be permitted to even scratch the surface of the girl whose perplexingly alluring face he awoke to each morning. Maybe her apparently dark history with Aaron was another piece of the puzzle he wouldn't ever quite work out.

His musings were interrupted as he turned a corner and set his sights on the bench at which he'd last left her, only to find that she had her nose buried in a book which he quickly recognized as the one he'd caught her entranced by in the kitchen only a week before. He halted his footsteps and pressed himself against a floral shop window as to shield himself from her field of vision. Raising an eyebrow with curiosity, he watched as his mysterious companion's eyes flickered anxiously from one side of the page to the other. She appeared to be rereading the same page over and over again, as if its contents were the most vital tidbits of information she'd ever laid eyes on.

Hoping to sneak a better look, the Doctor began to approach the bench with trepidation, placing one foot gingerly in front of the other as to avoid making distracting sounds. Unfortunately, he was wearing his "wibbly-wobbly shoes," as he liked to call them, and he stumbled over his heels within the first several steps, causing Clara's head to snap up.

"Oh, Doctor! That took a while!" She chirped, locking eye contact with the Doctor as she returned her journal and pen to the bag with one stealthy swoop.

"Uh, yes! Yes, sorry! I couldn't find anyone named Aaron! I searched every tent, even the toilets. No Aarons here, I'm afraid!" He managed to sputter as he handed Clara her rose with fidgeting hands.

A deep frown crossed Clara's face.

"That's odd. Maybe he's gone off to a university. I never did pin him as the scholarly type, though. Anyhow, I'm starving! Shall we get supper in the TARDIS then?"

The Doctor nodded slowly and raised a trembling arm to help Clara off of the bench. She swiped his hand away and stood on her own, hoisting her messenger bag over her shoulder and smirking at his pale face.

"I'm perfectly capable of using my own legs. You know that. What's gotten into you? You look like you've seen a ghost, and not the friendly kind like Casper. An actual ghost. You're all shaky." She observed, looping her arm in his.

"Oh, is there a ghost on this beach? Lovely! You didn't tell me about him! Could we meet him?" He recovered smoothly as they began to trudge along the sands toward the TARDIS.

The mood lightened considerably as Clara shared the comical story of "The Spirit of Blackpool Beach" her grandfather used to dramatize around campfires. Her soothing laughter calmed the Doctor's frayed nerves and set his hearts beating at an easier pace. Enigmatic as she was, Clara had a relaxing way about her, and the Doctor couldn't imagine where he'd have ended up if she hadn't appeared like a guardian angel and rescued him from his miserable state. He'd probably still be on that cloud, wasting away in the vapors.

Nonetheless, he intended to crack the code of Clara Oswald, and he imagined that strange little book she'd hidden from him twice would be an appropriate starting place.

"Doctor, look!" She whispered, whisking him from his reverie and pointing at a frantic young woman holding a stack of blue flyers and attempting to convince passerby to take them.

A light breeze picked up, and several of the flyers fluttered from the woman's loose grasp and landed at the Doctor's feet. Curious, he snatched one from the ground and held it in front of his nose, his hearts sinking simultaneously in his chest as he read the bolded words on the page.

"What does it say?"

The Doctor frowned sadly and held the paper out for Clara to see. She gasped before reading the words aloud.

"_Have you seen this child?_"


End file.
